


The Secret Ingredient

by thericeraven



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, Tea, The Jasmine Dragon, Wholesome Interactions, ft. sokka's sarcasm, iroh is proud™, jasmine tea, zuko makes tea, zuko panics over tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thericeraven/pseuds/thericeraven
Summary: The place felt strangely empty without his uncle around. He had gone out on an expedition around the city to garner inspiration on new tea blends for the shop. His uncle was always claiming that he could think better when he walked around—drinking in all the sights and sounds and smells. He did mention something about the patchouli stalls and the puppet stands down by the river, so Zuko hoped that he would be gone long enough for him to get things under control.This was the most important cup of tea he was going to make in his entire life, after all.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	The Secret Ingredient

**Author's Note:**

> here is a piece I wrote for a zine application, a very different speed from my usual works but an enjoyable one nonetheless

The steam from the pot did little to soothe Zuko’s nerves.

He fed the fire with more coal, bringing the water to a boil. 

The place felt strangely empty without his uncle around. He had gone out on an expedition around the city to garner inspiration on new tea blends for the shop. His uncle was always claiming that he could think better when he walked around—drinking in all the sights and sounds and smells. He did mention something about the patchouli stalls and the puppet stands down by the river, so Zuko hoped that he would be gone long enough for him to get things under control.

The distant thud of hooves and wheels running over stone crept in through the only open window in the kitchen. If he listened closely, he could hear the scattered sounds of conversation drifting over from the stretch of road far below. A quiet sunlight bathed the whole place in warm gold—a soothing balm on the nerve-wracking experience that Zuko was currently going through.

He had never been too interested in making tea, so he had surprised himself too when he came up with this idea. It had sounded brilliant and fantastic and absolutely ingenious at the time, but now that he was standing in front of the fire, he wasn’t really sure if he was doing it right.

He sighed.

If only he had paid more attention when his uncle decided to impart some impromptu tea wisdom upon him.

This was the most important cup of tea he was going to make in his entire life, after all.

Zuko took the pot off the stove, the water inside sloshing around precariously as he fetched the teapot and the strainer. 

The only thing he remembered very distinctly was his uncle preaching something about a secret ingredient. If there was anything he had learned, it was that this ingredient was  _ necessary _ to the making of good tea. It was the one thing that distinguished good tea from bad tea, or as his uncle liked to call it—”hot leaf juice”—and he certainly wasn’t aiming to make bad tea here. 

No, he couldn’t disappoint his uncle like that.

Not on his birthday.

Fumbling with the tin, he uncapped it and took a cautionary whiff. The light floral scent reminded him of late summer mornings, when his uncle would take him out to the patch of soft grass on a hill outside the city and make him jasmine tea. They would sit and watch the wild sparrowkeets go by, tweeting and flitting by the fresh jasmine flowers that always bloomed this time of year. The whole scene reminded him of a peace and serenity that he found himself longing for on a bad day, the sweet smell easing his nerves. 

He held a handful of jasmine leaves up to the light. This was his uncle’s special blend—the leaves picked and gently closed, scented with fresh blooms to retain the flavor and fragrance of truly divine jasmine tea. It was Zuko’s favorite, and he had to at least  _ try _ to do it justice. 

It was no secret that his uncle was a big fan of tea. He firmly believed that it was his life’s passion all along—the harmonies of water and fire and earth and air dancing in a teapot. Zuko firmly believed it too. He had never seen his uncle look so happy and at ease with himself before he opened The Jasmine Dragon. Talking to people and showing them what a good cup of tea could do always put a smile on his face.

Zuko gulped. He really wanted to make his uncle happy too.

With a considerable amount of effort, he strained the hot water over the leaves, trying to steady his wrists and rack his brain for any mention of the secret ingredient. Of course it wouldn’t be a secret if his uncle talked about it all the time, but surely he must have said it at least  _ once _ , right?  _ C’mon Zuko, think _ .

Swinging wildly around the room, he began his search for the mystery ingredient as the leaves were steeping. He rummaged through the lower cupboards, shuffling through bags of sugar and tins of cinnamon as he worked his way up to the higher shelves.  _ What could you possibly put in tea to make it taste better _ ? His head was starting to hurt from all this thinking. 

After a full few minutes of shifting various pots and lids around under the sink, pottering around in the dark crevices of the tea shop’s supplies, he shot up in realization.  _ The water! _ Scrambling back to the teapot, he practically flung the lid off and examined his work. 

Zuko sighed in relief. The tea leaves hadn’t been steeping too long. 

Then his panic started anew. Should he add anything more? Sugar? Honey? Date syrup, perhaps? He still hadn’t found the secret ingredient. Should he taste the tea first? What if it was horribly bitter? What then? He could start fresh, but he had a sinking feeling that a second attempt would be worse.

This was a matter of grave importance. 

Taking a deep breath, he slid the teapot onto a tray along with four other cups—carefully—as if anything too strong and hot-headed might break the very thing he had created.

It was time to recruit some help. 

“It tastes like...tea,” Sokka offered, very helpfully.

Zuko gave him a flat look, teapot in hand. 

They were all seated cross-legged in the grass—a short walk away from The Jasmine Dragon—where the breeze swept across their heads and the sky was bright blue. Fluffy clouds drifted by above them, the lazy afternoon a perfect time of day to enjoy a cup of tea outside. Zuko was certain his uncle would approve his choice of location if he were here.

“It’s very pleasant,” Aang remarked, taking a deep sip from his cup.

“Pleasant?” Zuko squinted. “Just pleasant?”

“It’s really good,” Aang corrected himself. “This is the best tea I’ve tasted in a long while!”

“I know you’re trying to make me feel better.”

Aang offered him a sheepish smile.

“Hey, as much as it pains me to admit it,” Sokka said, feigning great effort trying to get the words out of his mouth. “It’s actually  _ really, really good _ .”

Zuko shot him a suspicious look.

“It’s definitely an improvement from the first time you made us tea,” Katara admitted, taking another sip now that she had made certain that it wouldn’t give her a coughing fit. “I’m actually kind of  _ impressed _ .”

Sokka and Aang both shuddered when they recalled that fateful day in the Western air temple, where Zuko had first attempted to introduce them to the wonders of tea. It was an unassuming pot of green tea, something simple and almost impossible to mess up, but even then, Zuko had found a way. Admittedly, they had been trying to be nice about it, but it all went out the window when Sokka started choking on his tea. He felt bad about it afterwards, but Zuko had taken it as a sign that maybe he wasn’t cut out for making tea.

“What if he doesn’t like it?” Zuko furrowed his brow. “I’m still missing a secret ingredient.”

“A secret ingredient?” Aang echoed, his curiosity piqued. 

“What is it?” Katara asked.

“It wouldn’t be much of a secret if he told us, right?” Sokka pointed out.

“Fair point.” Toph shrugged.

“Do you want us to help you look for it?” Aang asked.

Everyone had turned to look at him expectantly now. 

“I don’t even know what it is,” Zuko admitted. “And I don’t think we’re going to have much luck searching for it.”

There was just a little part of him that didn’t actually want his friends to help him. It felt a little unfair that he wasn’t looking for it himself. During their time together, Zuko had opened himself up slowly to the idea of asking for help, but this was something that he wanted to do alone. He wanted to be the one to figure out what the secret ingredient was, to make his uncle proud. 

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” Toph piped up, tilting her cup precariously, much to Zuko’s alarm. “You made it. Of course he’s gonna like it.”

Katara nodded.

“Toph has a point,” she added with a small smile. “Your uncle’s going to love it when he hears that you’ve made something for him.”

Zuko considered their words. 

Maybe they were right. His uncle had never been one to discourage his attempts at making tea, even if they were terrible attempts. He had always been patient and supportive of Zuko’s more  _ creative _ ventures, and he was thankful for that. This wasn’t about creativity, but it mattered a lot to him that he had actually made this cup of tea with his own hands. He wanted to pay tribute to the years of passion and fondness his uncle had poured into the art of tea-making; this cup of tea would serve as a reminder that Zuko had been listening all along, that he was happy his uncle had found something that made him so happy.

He took a sip of his own tea, and he smiled.

“Thanks, guys.”

There was nowhere more apt to present his creation to his uncle than The Jasmine Dragon itself. The place was fairly empty today, a small and steady stream of customers coming in for their late afternoon cup of tea. The air was alight with floral and spicy fragrances alike, which was a given for the popular choice of the shop’s afternoon brew—a ginseng and black tea blend. They were seated near the back of the shop, where an easy glow crept in through the window. 

“Happy Birthday, Uncle.”  _ I hope I’ve made you proud _ .

Zuko tilted the teapot, the steady trickle of hot jasmine tea careful under his hands as the cup filled up with warmth. A plume of steam rose up lazily from the cup, the aroma of jasmine between them like a thread that pulled Zuko one step closer to understanding his uncle’s trade, to understanding who he was. The whole gesture felt so  _ personal _ , like he was opening up his mind to the process, to bear his heart to the tea he had poured his soul into. 

Iroh smiled appreciatively as he took the cup in hand.

This was the moment of truth.

Zuko watched, his fingers twitching nervously as his uncle took his first sip.

“Hmm,” Iroh hummed pleasantly, straightening up in slight surprise.

His uncle looked a little shocked, but he was smiling. Was that good? Did it mean he didn’t find the tea utterly repulsive? Why was he smiling? Was there something he was missing? The suspense was killing him.

Iroh made another sound through his second sip, and then his third, and then his fourth.

“Do you like it?” Zuko finally dared to ask.

Iroh fixed him a fond look. 

“This tea is  _ delightful _ , Zuko,” he began. “I love it.”

All the panic and worry wound up into a little ball inside his chest melted away, the world starting to turn again. Zuko let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, a smile easing onto his face as he watched his uncle drink the tea  _ he _ had made. Drinking the tea he had made and actually enjoying it. A warm feeling started to blossom inside his chest, like a big hug from the inside that brought a sense of peace to his mind. 

“I thought I messed it up,” Zuko admitted quickly, as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “I didn’t find the secret ingredient.”

Iroh gave him an amused little smile.

“What do you mean?” he said. “It’s right here.”

“What?” Zuko raised an eyebrow in confusion.

There was no secret ingredient. He didn’t add anything to the tea. Did he?

Iroh reached across the table and pointed to his nephew’s chest. 

“It’s right here, Zuko.”

“I’m not following,” Zuko said slowly.

Iroh laughed, and it was such a hearty sound that rang through the tea shop and made Zuko smile through his confusion too. 

“Tell me, what’s here?” Iroh pointed again, the delighted look never leaving his eyes.

Zuko looked down.

“My...heart?”

Iroh beamed and nodded.

“Exactly.”

And there in The Jasmine Dragon—on a quiet afternoon where the sun hung low in the sky and painted the city in golds and reds, the air thick with the promise of a new tomorrow—Zuko learnt the truth about the secret ingredient. What he had been looking for all along was right under his nose. It had been there all along, and all it took was a cup of jasmine tea for him to realize that. 

He smiled wider.

The secret ingredient was  _ love _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I've missed writing short stories. 
> 
> here are my [socials](https://thericeraven.carrd.co)


End file.
